


Red Light, Green Light

by Erisabesu (ErisabesuFic)



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: 1880, Bedroom Sex, Established Relationship, HibaYama, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vulnerability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:15:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23708224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErisabesuFic/pseuds/Erisabesu
Summary: "Yamamoto discovers early on that sex with Hibari is similar to their sparring matches: relentless full-body combat requiring substantial amounts of agility and endurance to equal the force of their appetites.All it takes is one saucy look to get things started. A baiting comment. A snap of the wrist, a dodge, a feint—and then a kiss so deep and intense they could suffocate, fingers like claws in each other’s hair. Sometimes they stay on their feet; sometimes they make it over to the sofa, sometimes all the way into the privacy of Hibari’s bedroom."  [2010.09.05]
Relationships: Hibari Kyouya/Yamamoto Takeshi
Comments: 14
Kudos: 60





	Red Light, Green Light

**“Red Light Green Light”**

◊

  


Yamamoto discovers early on that sex with Hibari is similar to their sparring matches: relentless full-body combat requiring substantial amounts of agility and endurance to equal the force of their appetites.

All it takes is one saucy look to get things started. A baiting comment. A snap of the wrist, a dodge, a feint—and then a kiss so deep and intense they could suffocate, fingers like claws in each other’s hair. Sometimes they stay on their feet; sometimes they make it over to the sofa, sometimes all the way into the privacy of Hibari’s bedroom. Sometimes all the aggressive rolling around on top of the covers spills them over the side and onto the floor where they keep going until finished regardless, and then sometimes even when they do manage to stay on the mattress Yamamoto ends up with nicks or bruises he can’t quite account for, scattered surface wounds like proprietary battle scars. But every time with Hibari is good, whether they get all their clothes off first or not, or whether they’re able to retain some kind of discipline over their more animalistic urges without completely wrecking the room—or each other—in the process.

With a lover as moody and unpredictable as Hibari Kyoya, Yamamoto has to be ready for anything. There are times when Hibari is _not_ interested in fooling around and will _not_ be persuaded otherwise. There are times Yamamoto’s every overture is ignored, times a mere brush of his elbow against Hibari’s arm as they pass in the kitchen can result in a black eye and a loose tooth, and times they spend so many nights sleeping in separate rooms that—for Yamamoto at least—the loneliness can become unbearable.

There are no flower bouquets, no boxes of candy in this relationship—that’s a given. There are no romantic dinners by candlelight, or strolls through the park, or phone calls to whisper goodnight when they’re apart, and Yamamoto understands there will never, ever be such things with Hibari as his partner, a man who can operate only when certain sets of rules and restrictions are in place.

Even so, before retiring alone to his room on his side of their apartment, Yamamoto showers thoroughly and sleeps in the nude with the pillow tucked under his chin because once in a rare while, when he’s least expecting it, something really _special_ happens.

If Hibari decides—against his nature—to initiate a nocturnal visit, the first moments are critical. He will open Yamamoto’s door and approach the bed on silent feet and then stand there, hands on his hips, waiting for just one of Yamamoto’s muscles to twitch in anticipation and ruin everything. Although Yamamoto is instantly wide awake, he must keep his breathing smooth and natural because even the tiniest wrong move will result in Hibari turning on his heel and storming out of the room, and then out of the apartment, sometimes even going so far as skipping the country for the rest of the month.

But if Yamamoto pretends well enough that he’s fast asleep and not a threat, if he passes, then Hibari will come closer and begin to reveal his most vulnerable side—

As long as there is _never_ any acknowledgement that such a side of him exists.

When Hibari closes that last distance, his first touches are so soft, so like a besotted lover that it’s somewhat of a stretch to believe it’s really him. Hibari sweeps his fingertips across the back of Yamamoto’s shoulders, hesitant, tentative, and yet the slow glide of skin on skin is much too possessive to be mistaken for anything casual. In this way, Yamamoto knows that this is _Hibari_.

It’s not at all like when they spar, Hibari’s deadly fingertips bent on inflicting the most damage with the least efforts, efficiency at his core. It’s not like when the sparring is finished and Hibari gruffly checks Yamamoto over for wounds or broken bones, or shoves bandages and plasters at him before retreating somewhere solitary to see to his own injuries.

Here, secluded in the quiet darkness of Yamamoto’s room, it’s just the opposite. Hands more suited to a weapon’s grip trail upward into the back of Yamamoto’s hair, fingers digging gently into Yamamoto’s scalp and then lazily scratching down the curve of his spine before pulling the remaining covers out of the way. Hibari follows an indiscernible path, and yet his hands cover every inch of Yamamoto, from the curved cage-lines of his ribs to the bumpy undersides of his toes, fragile intimacies implied and confirmed, given and accepted, haltingly, with each different sensation. These gestures, however awkward coming from Hibari, still carry an explicit meaning, the weight and significance of which presses down into Yamamoto’s heart until he can’t breathe, Hibari’s unspoken sentiments filling every empty place inside, drop by drop.

It’s worth it to keep still and endure, for if Yamamoto makes it this far without moving, makes it past the warm-up without reacting in any way aside from the irrepressible goose flesh prickling over his neck and along the backs of his arms, then Hibari will replace his fingers with his mouth and repeat the tactile process from the beginning at a new, and even more personal level.

Hibari will climb up fully onto the bed and straddle Yamamoto’s hips so his tongue can trace the edges of each shoulder blade, and his nose can press along the base of Yamamoto’s neck and then up into his scruffy hair while he decides just where to bite down first. He doesn’t choose just one spot; he bites down and holds—not hard enough to draw blood; just hard enough to dare—wherever he wants. On the neck. On the meat of the shoulder. On the curve of Yamamoto’s buttock. On the back of his knee. On his Achilles tendon. On the arch of his foot.

At every press of teeth Yamamoto’s pulse spikes, at every lick of the tongue Yamamoto has to fight not to make a single noise or worse—to beg Hibari for more. To disrupt Hibari when he’s like this—nibbling here and tasting there, whetting his appetite before a meal—would be dangerous. But to startle him by emitting so much as a breathy moan—to make Hibari fully aware of how his actions convey his secret yearnings and put his raw emotions on display—would be _fatal_.

The risks in dealing with Hibari Kyoya are much of the appeal, although keeping still underneath Hibari’s mouth and tongue is so difficult that Yamamoto really thinks he might die. He draws on every bit of his inherent calm to make it through Hibari’s onslaught, forced to weather each passing second as his yearnings simmer just below the surface, and the hold on his control becomes ever more tenuous.

There’s no way for Yamamoto to know what Hibari will do next or how far it will go until Hibari wants him to know, nudging his knees between Yamamoto’s thighs to widen them, and transmitting soft growls to Yamamoto’s back as he nestles his hips and rocks forward. He arches the rest of his body overtop Yamamoto with elbows holding up most of his weight and Yamamoto is still careful not to react, although Hibari does not make it easy for him at any step of the way, painting slippery lines with his tongue all the way down to the dimples on either side of Yamamoto’s buttocks, then nipping from one side to the other with his teeth and—on the _really_ special occasions—Hibari will scoot down to the edge of the mattress and use both hands to spread Yamamoto apart before boldly curling his tongue inside him.

Yamamoto muffles his mouth and nose with the pillow, and keeps his reactions to a minimum by giving in to the sensations instead of fighting them although holding back completely through something like _that_ would be impossible for anyone. Hibari continues without the slightest sign of mercy, turning this prolonged and unusual gentleness into an effective torture, his tongue giving way to his saliva-slicked fingers, and Yamamoto’s cock swelling to its fullest where it lies trapped between his belly and the sheets.

Abruptly, Hibari halts, withdrawing his mouth and his fingers. Yamamoto shivers and closes his eyes, waiting and wondering. Throbbing. _Desiring_.

But Hibari gets off of the bed altogether, and Yamamoto cringes. He turns his face into the pillow to hide his acute disappointment that all his efforts were still not enough, that Hibari has lost interest anyhow and he’ll be left alone, unsatisfied, in punishment.

Then a rustling of silk makes Yamamoto’s ears perk—Hibari’s pajamas drop to the floor, followed by the noise of spit landing in a palm, and then a palm working back and forth over taut skin. Yamamoto tenses—a surge of hope in his chest—and all too quickly Hibari is climbing back onto the bed to guide the head of his cock straight into Yamamoto’s ass, taking only a second to adjust Yamamoto’s hips to a better height before pushing forward and bearing down.

Yamamoto braces for it, but it’s still a shock no matter how well he’s been prepared. All of him tingles, tongue caught between his teeth as he fights both to breathe and keep quiet at the same time. Hibari groans, panting, and then Yamamoto shudders as Hibari eases the rest of the way in, his hands shaking where they grip Yamamoto’s thighs.

Hibari moves immediately, forcefully, brutally—this is the last of Hibari’s gentleness, his wilder instincts wholly taking over. Yamamoto can’t help arching backward and digging his hands into the mattress for support, drowning in the secret way Hibari’s breaths hitch as he finds a driving rhythm and then leans over to seek out the most pleasurable angle for both of them. Yamamoto bucks when he finds it. Hibari’s fingernails break the skin from the fierceness of his grip and his heated struggle to slow back down and draw things out; the sensations gather momentum; Yamamoto’s skin flushes pink all at once.

Soon it’s clear that Hibari actually _can’t_ slow down—just as Yamamoto expects to peak Hibari clenches his teeth and stops moving altogether, forcing things to a halt, gasping, his head thrown back, regaining his control through sheer will.

Yamamoto tries valiantly not to let his annoyance show, the thrumming energy in his veins screaming _“I want, I want, I want!”_ until it’s impossible to suppress the fine tremors that course through his straining muscles, their hips tightly aligned like vertebra, their skin dappled in sweat.

Hibari stays absolutely still, _far_ longer than Yamamoto is prepared to bear—he writhes and grinds against Hibari in open rebellion until Hibari roughly hooks Yamamoto’s leg up and around the back of his waist to change positions, shoving Yamamoto down flat on the bed with a hand on his neck, and growling. Yamamoto pants, brow furrowed, unable to counter Hibari’s hold. Gruffly, Hibari slides down onto Yamamoto’s back and slips his right arm under Yamamoto’s head, covering Yamamoto’s eyes with an insistent hand before rolling to the side and pulling him snug against his chest.

Hibari scissors their legs and makes experimental thrusts, demanding that Yamamoto’s body adjust to his through trial and error, slowly, slowly, slowly until their mismatched proportions align in exactly the right way. A guttural sigh escapes through Hibari’s lips; Yamamoto shivers in response, his other senses heightened while Hibari’s fingers block his vision.

Hibari palms Yamamoto’s thigh where it curves backward overtop his hip, scoring his fingertips into the tender juncture of leg, hip, and stomach, and eliciting shivers that climb all the way up to Yamamoto’s crown. Hibari puts his mouth on Yamamoto’s nape and Yamamoto bites his lip, held in suspense as Hibari explores the front of his body with broad sweeping strokes from his abdominals up to his throat, and then a switch—fingernails scraping downward over the points of Yamamoto’s nipples.

The forced leisure, the deliberate taunt in every touch, the teasing suction of Hibari’s lips and tongue on the skin of his neck—again Yamamoto writhes against Hibari’s hold and jerks backward into his unyielding hipbones, urgently seeking a deeper fulfillment instead of these sadistic flirtations that drive him insane with lust. Hibari’s teeth nip the skin below his ear in warning.

Despite how it seems, Yamamoto understands that Hibari’s actions are not entirely selfish. For Hibari to expend so much effort, to squander the best hours of the night with things he finds largely unnecessary when it comes to sex—to attempt to make love at all—Yamamoto tallies every precious second and somehow quiets his rampant pulse so he can match their breathing, and then their heartbeats, steady… steady… steady…

Hibari’s palm presses flat above Yamamoto’s heart; his lips close on the vein in Yamamoto’s neck; his hips thrust upward into him, again and again, completing the circuit. Hibari’s unchecked devotion transmits to Yamamoto through every place they touch and Yamamoto swallows against the aching fullness beating behind his ribs.

Hibari’s hand lowers, fingers grasping between Yamamoto’s legs to bring him off in sure, measured strokes. Yamamoto jerks and shudders, held fast by Hibari’s arms, his head turning instinctively so he can bite down on Hibari’s wrist, eyes still bound by Hibari’s palm.

Hibari whispers the breathy syllables _“Ta… Ta… Take… shi..."_ of Yamamoto’s given name between the force of his final thrusts, his knees quivering between Yamamoto’s legs as he comes, jerking, teeth clenched and arms flexing through the spasms.

And then Hibari exhales, burying his nose in the curve of Yamamoto’s shoulder as the rest of him relaxes, every sharp angle turned soft and languid, every corner filled with warmth. Yamamoto is the same, nestled snug against Hibari’s chest, gulping air to catch his breath. Hibari kisses the top of his shoulder; Yamamoto licks the teeth-marks he left on Hibari’s wrist, now while Hibari is momentarily unaware of just how far his guard has dropped.

Within moments, Hibari has fallen right to sleep. 

Yamamoto memorizes the weight of Hibari’s arms, the tickling murmur of his snores. Yamamoto stays right where he is for as long as he dares, relishing the gift of Hibari’s very real, deep slumber—his ultimate vulnerability. It’s not about pretending at all. That’s not what this is about.

_No one else knows him like this. No one else is allowed._

After a few more moments, and always sooner than he’d like, Yamamoto eases out of Hibari’s hold. Hibari won’t stay asleep for long. Yamamoto leaves the box of tissues within Hibari’s reach and then retreats to the bathroom for a much needed shower, stretching out his aching muscles under the heat of the water and giving Hibari ample time to leave the room without fuss or confrontation… or to stay until morning. Whatever Hibari decides. Yamamoto won’t know which way it will go until he opens the bathroom door.

Even so, he towels his body dry with a smile on his face, the thrill of the unknown tingling in his fingertips as he reaches for the door’s catch—and smirks at the naked, prone curve of Hibari’s back, Hibari’s calf twitching once in anticipation as he stubbornly feigns sleep, waiting and not waiting for Yamamoto to rejoin him.

  


—

Ω

**Author's Note:**

> In my hc for 8018, it's rare for Hibari to initiate sex that's tender and intimate because it's hard for him to admit he needs/wants anything at all from another person. So I wanted to explore that here. <3 
> 
> Thank you for reading! I will never stop loving this ship. <333
> 
> I'm on twitter, come say hi! @erisabesu3


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